


Still Feel

by hobikilledme



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Big Emotions, Canon Universe, M/M, they're just at a beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobikilledme/pseuds/hobikilledme
Summary: Lee Chan just has a lot of Big Emotions
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Lee Chan | Dino
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56





	Still Feel

**Author's Note:**

> idk i wrote this with Still Feel. by half-alive on repeat in like five hours lol, sorry it's not betaed

Chan wants to eat the world alive sometimes. His body feels too small for his emotions and he wants to just scream with the amount of energy vibrating in his body. It’s like standing somewhere high and opening your mouth, trying to inhale the wind, hoping you can swallow the sun. 

He’s not good about talking about these feelings. Maybe it’s just a general issue with society and telling boys they shouldn't’ feel. Maybe it’s the idol thing, existing as a persona during his formative years and trying so hard to get 12 other boys to take him seriously. Some days he dances until he’s too tired to walk and has to call someone to help him limp home. Soonyoung used to look at him with a startling amount of worry and grief for someone so young. Maybe he gets it, this horrible restless feeling, wanting to tear your skin from your form and just exist as pure noise.

He’s sure that other members have felt it, when they’ve gotten hurt, or had to take a break because their body had said /stop/ please. How do you keep existing when the one thing you’re good at is what’s killing you? Chan runs from that thought. The therapist their company eventually hired for them tells him this is an unhealthy coping mechanism, that one day he won’t be able to run. It’s fine though. Chan is fast. 

He loves his hyungs, hates them on days but they basically raised him. You can’t ever run away from the idea people created when you were younger. It’s painful to watch the same struggle he feels play out on their faces, but have them try to hide it from him. He doesn’t want that idea to exist, wants to stop being seen as childish, but it’s not up to him.

\---

Hansol seems like the type of person who never once wanted to scream in frustration. Factually, Chan knows this isn’t true, he’s seen every single one of his hyungs cry. It’s sobering to hold someone older than you together while they break apart. Hansol really isn’t that much older than him, forgets to correct his honorifics, never lets Chan get under his skin like that. Sometimes Chan wants to be fought. Maybe that’ll get the bees out of his blood, maybe the thunder will stop rumbling in his heart. 

Chan doesn’t know what love is. He was too small when they started this to have any relationship, and now they’re too big. Everything he reads talks about how love is like fire and chaos and all Big Emotions. He’s not sure if whatever he feels around Hansol is love quite yet.

\---

It’s hot, miserably so, and Hansol is wearing shorts and a tank top and Chan wants to /die/. Apparently, the horny teenage boy part of your brain doesn’t magically disappear when you turn 21. 

“Holy fuck its hot,” Hansol says, pulling his tank top off his chest and trying to fan himself. This is what Sisyphean torture is, Chan thinks, hating whatever hyung was reading a fucking mythology book in the living room and imprinted that word in his head. 

“No shit, it’s August and we’re at the beach. Also global warming is a thing still,” Chan tries to hide his face in his bucket hat and sunglasses.

If anyone in the vocal unit smells his fear/horniness, he will never live it down. Ever. A group vacation had sounded great at the time but now, there’s no rehearsal he can pretend to be going to. There’s only the beach and the house they had rented to stay at. 

Laying on the beach all day sounds like a dream. The problem is that his friends are all hot. He objectively knew this, it’s the idol thing, but god, they were really all hot. They didn’t usually have time to just not wear clothes, too many cameras, too many people. Now, there’s no escaping it.

“Hey,” Chan startles a little, he had forgotten Hansol was next to him. The other boy hands him some watermelon, “You look red, make sure you’re wearing sunscreen.” Chan can only stare as the other boy licks watermelon juice up the side of his arm.

He wants to leap out of his skin. He wants to press his mouth on Hansol’s, steal the breath from his lungs, paint purple marks down his neck and chest, hold all of his love in his two hands and watch it drip gold splatters on the sand. Maybe it’ll turn to glass.

\---

They end up going dancing later. There’s some bar down the road from their rental and the feat of getting all thirteen of them out and willing to dance is enough to celebrate. It isn’t that crowded but thirteen boys in a small space always makes a ruckus. Chan ends up perched at the bar, dazzled by the strobe lights and feeling a little in love with everyone. Watching everyone be so carefree is the best thing in the whole world.

“Chan-ah, Channie, baby, come dance with me please?” Seokmin, who is considerably more tipsy than he is, pops up out of nowhere tugging on his arm. 

He laughs, letting himself be pulled into a group on the dance floor, who cheer when he appears. He loses himself in the music for a bit, time doing that funny thing where it all starts to blur. Then as suddenly as he was dancing with Seokmin, he’s being spun into someone else’s arms.

“Hey,” Hansol grins at him, looking flushed and perfect.

Chan grins back at him, as the song changes to something slower, and Hansol spins him like a princess. They end up just sort of swaying, both too tires or tipsy to try and do a waltz.

It’s muffled here, looking at Hansol, swaying on some random dance floor like they are not international idols. Chan feels like he’s in one of those cliche movies, the orchestra would crescendo and then the two leads would kiss. Hansol is looking at him with so much tenderness that Chan doesn’t even realize he’s pressing up, eyes slipping closed, but then it’s just the warm lips pressed to his, a gasp of surprise muffled.

Then everything stops, as Hansol pushes him away, looking startled and far away as people keep dancing around them, “Wait Chan, no we sh-” 

Chan doesn't even give him a chance to finish his sentence, feeling the world come back, swallow him whole, the orchestra, now a jumbled crash. He does the only thing he’s ever learned how to do. He runs.

\---

He’s standing at the edge of the ocean, watching the moon glitter a path across the top of it, feeling the tug of the water and the push of the wind and he wants to scream. He doesn’t want to walk back to the rental house even though he knows that everyone will worry. There’s just too much in his head, too much in his life, feelings too big and loud for Dino, the idol. Too big for Lee Chan.  
\---

He avoids everyone the next day, going into town to see if the only dance studio will let him rent out a room. Dancing has always been the best way to get out big emotions. Thankfully, since there aren’t classes during the summer, the owner lets him borrow a room.

He dances until he reaches that all too familiar place. The one where he stretches himself too thin. He feels himself miss a step to choreography he should know by heart. It makes him trip and suddenly he’s sprawled on the floor. All of the emotions he’s been trying to run from catch up to him. He feels a sob work it’s way up his throat and then he can’t stop the flood of tears.

Chan watches himself, sees his figure collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath, tears running down his face. This isn’t Dino, this isn’t some persona he’s selling, this is just Lee Chan, raw and disgusting. He wonders how much trouble he’ll be in if he posts a photo like this. Maybe the fans will think it’s a thirst trap. He wants to laugh at that. God what a gross thought. Being an idol fucking sucks sometimes.

The music keeps playing even as he lays there, wishing he was a better person. He hears the door open behind him, and turns to greet whoever it is, thinking that it’s just the owner. It’s like an electric shock throughout his body when he sees that Hansol is standing in the doorway. He scrambles up, wiping at his face, as the other boy walks into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Chan can we talk, please?” Hansol looks tired. Some small piece of Chan likes that he’s probably the cause. He tries his best to squash that thought down and looks away.

“No,” he wraps a towel around his shoulders, looking at his feet in the mirror. If he lifts his head, he’ll see Hansol break and he can’t do that, not now, not ever. “I don’t want to talk.” He turns to gather his things, trying to brush past the other boy. 

Hansol grabs his arm as he passes but he refuses to look him in the eyes, looking over his shoulder at the door. “Chan, please just give me like five minutes.”

He pulls his arm out of Hansol’s grip, “I said I don't want to talk. Just leave me alone.” He knows that he’s being childish, but it’s like a vice that just gets tighter. 

“Chan please-”

“No! I don’t want to!”

“Why do you do this!” Chan jerks back, he’s never heard Hansol raise his voice at him. He’s finally forced to look Hansol in the eye again. The other boy looks wild, almost in tears and /angry/. “Why do you constantly run away Chan? Just fucking talk to me for once!”

Isn’t this what Chan wanted, to be fought? To be knocked down finally? To upset the one person he couldn’t? He feels all of his emotions swirling around his head and to his horror, the tears come back. 

“I don't-”

Hansol cuts him off before he can even start, “You never want to listen!” He takes a step forward, forcing Chan to take a step back. “You think that you have to live in your head all by yourself and people will just read your mind! You have to talk to us Chan! You have to talk to me!” He keeps stepping forward, and Chan feels the cold press of the mirror behind him. Hansol cages him in.

“Hyung, you’ll smudge the mirror,” Chan tries to say, feeling small and also uncomfortably horny after being yelled at.

“Lee Chan, I simply do not give a fuck about the mirror,” He looks down at Chan, still angry obviously, “If you would just give me a goddamn second to explain myself, the mirror wouldn’t be smudged.”

Chan might be having a Horny Crisis over this, oh god. 

“If you had waited one damn second,” Hansol hisses at him, Chan is gonna have to reflect heavily on what he finds arousing after this, “ You would have heard me say that, kissing in the middle of a crowded bar, even in the middle of nowhere, is a bad idea because we’re idols. You don’t know if anyone could have taken a picture.”

Chan feels absolutely miserable, not only is he being scolded, but he’s now 90% sure that Hansol doesn’t even like boys.

“That being said,” They’re so close, Chan can feel him take a deep breath, “It’s not that I didn’t want to kiss you, it’s just not a great idea in public.”

Chan blinks at the other boy, “What?”

Hansol smiles a little, still looking tired but significantly less angry, “Lee Chan,” He moves a hand from the mirror to cup the side of his face, “Can I please kiss you?”

He shivers, why is consent so hot? “Yeah, of course.”

This time, the kiss is grounding. Hansol tilts his head, and opens his mouth a little and Chan sees stars behind his eyelids. He’s got a hand in the other boy’s shirt trying to grab this feeling of the entire ocean coursing through his veins.

Chan knows they’re going to need to talk, idol relationships are the worst, but now he feels Alive.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter


End file.
